I am often reminded of the satire England, England, by the British author Julian Barnes.
It follows the fortunes of a megalomaniac entrepreneur, Sir Jack Pitman, who wants to turn the Isle of Wight into a theme park for everything “quintessentially English.” Called England, England, the park features a Big Ben, Windsor Castle, the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, Stonehenge, a King, etc., etc., all conveniently close together, so visitors can dispense with the bother of touring the actual England.
Published in 1998, the novel mirrored what many feared England would become: a small island crammed with places of great historical significance reduced to supplying occasions for tourism. A theme park, full of twee gingham prints, castles, sheep, and royals.
It was not far off. Many still point to tourism as the major, if not the only, justification for the continued existence of the royal family. Merry Olde England has become a living Madame Tussaud’s wax museum, a sham replica of its former self.
The novel’s assessment of the absurdity of the modern predicament was exact: we are more in love with images and ideas of things than the things themselves. Maybe because we are in many ways so divorced from actual life, real landscapes, other people.
A tourist economy may bring the money, but it can also replace more sustaining and meaningful sources of wealth and industry. England, like many other places in the world, has lost much of its native, self-sustaining agriculture. Its historic farmhouses are more valuable as Airbnb’s, while inflated real estate prices have turned beautiful historic villages into private enclaves for the wealthy.
Tourism can be a double-edged sword. Find a striking location, an enviable place to live, full of vibrant interest, unique unto itself, and destroy it. Turn it into a cleaned up, micromanaged, staged version of what it once was. Make it into a backdrop for “experiences,” expensive accommodations, and overpriced restaurants. Let the public run roughshod over it. Charge admission.
So where are we in PEC? Why am I attacking tourism in the Spring Countylicious Special Issue, which is generously sponsored by Visit the County, our tourist management organization?
Because I want to point out that something quite different is going on when it comes to the tourism here. Perhaps because a beautiful, untrammeled, off-the-beaten-path island in Lake Ontario was always going to be, and always has been, at least in part, a tourist destination. By inviting in tourists, PEC is not exploiting what is here. It is creating something here. We are less England, and more Isle of Wight. A place to visit for its own sake, and on its own terms.
If PEC grew up through farming, it also offered sailing, sport fishing, beaching, boating, picnicking, and swimming. Gracious old hotels, like Lakeshore Lodge, right on the shore, catered to families on long summer days on this, our storied isle.
Before that, in the nineteenth century, steamboats brought visitors from Kingston to Lake on the Mountain, where they picnicked on the grass, swam in the deep, cold, mysterious lake, and enjoyed the spectacular views over the Reach. Just like today.
As we know, more recently, creative and extremely industrious people have been drawn here, and, faced with the problem of making a living where they love to live, collectively and collaboratively jump-started whole new ways of life.
They founded wineries and cideries and breweries and micro farms, where they decided to grow things like heirloom tomatoes, and somehow found themselves supplying, if not sustaining, other, like-minded people. Highly improbably, a sophisticated and intense farm-to-table wining and dining culture grew up around and through all this craft and hard work.
The County specializes in bounteous, unique, original, and wildly improbable hospitality. Based in agriculture, it’s an extension of the historic and traditional fabric of this place. It has created exactly the kind of specialness and uniqueness that draws visitors — but in our case, a certain kind of visitor, one that does not trample over so much as fit right in, coming again and again, enjoying the wine and the food and the whole terroir. There’s an ecosystem here.
This kind of tourism is the opposite of the kind that destroys. It enhances. It grows. It invites.
I made the rounds this week, visiting some of the local establishments, which is always interesting and engaging. I was preparing for this Countylicious issue, as usual — but the electric moment we are in was top of mind. The turn inward, to buy local, and support Canadian sovereignty, has important ramifications for local life, for life here.
Not least, tourism will be up, as in the pandemic. Canadians are cancelling trips to the U.S. and instead spending their American-weakened loonies where they will count the most. You can save 40 cents on the dollar by staying here rather than going there. AirDNA, an important travel data center, shows bookings to the County from May to August 2025 are already up 40 percent over last year. That dramatic increase is supported by other shifts. Canadian travel agency Flight Centre Travel Group says leisure bookings to American cities dropped 40 percent in February over the same month last year. In addition, it says one in five of its clients has cancelled trips to the U.S. over the past three months. These early statistics are the tip of the iceberg. The U.S. Travel Association notes that Canada is its top source of international travel, with 20.4 million visits in 2024. The Association was projecting a 5% increase in 2025. Not anymore. Now it’s crossing its fingers the decline stops at 20 percent. That is still $4.1 billion lost. And probably wishful thinking.
This inward turn will sustain our local economy, our tourist trade, our hospitality.
As Chef Paul Tobias of The Grange of Prince Edward put it, in the midst of getting ready for the winery’s inaugural Countylicious and launch of a whole new culinary program, “we’ve always been doing that, what’s going on right now, the focus on local — and we are poised to take full advantage of this moment.”
The County was made for this.
See it in the newspaper